Robert and I had plans to go to a party, but when the party was cancelled at the last minute, we decided to grab dinner instead.

Until now, every time we’d been together outside of work– it was a group thing (church, hanging out with his little cousins, drinks with my friends from out of town etc.). This would be our first time hanging out alone, our first time having dinner together. Maybe tonight I could figure out what his angle was. Did he see me as a friend? or perhaps something more….

We talked easily over dinner and every so often we’d have these moments where we’d just look at each other and laugh for no reason (…this felt like a date).

Then he told me some story about being at a wedding and flirting with a bridesmaid (… not a date).

Later in the night, he got a little more serious when he asked.

“So, what’s going on with you and that guy we ran into?”

It took me a moment to realize he was talking about Jeremy. Augh! Was he trying to give me dating advice? If so, he’s definitely moved us into “not a date” territory.

“What do you mean?” I asked, as calmly as I could.

“Are you two dating?”

Something in the way he asked the question made me realize he wasn’t trying to give me advice, he wanted to know… perhaps for his own benefit?

“No, we’re not,” I said.

We talked about that day and why Jeremy was acting the way he did… I explained that if something was going to happen between Jeremy and me, it would have happened a long time ago…. Robert said that Jeremy seemed really upset that I “stood him up” for dinner (I just shrugged)… I accidentally mentioned that my sister Denise wasn’t a huge fan of Jeremy’s and that her opinion was important, to which he replied “good to know”(… date!).

When the check came, he took it and paid for dinner. As we walked to the train we talked about the next time we could hang out, I gave him permission to plan something.

So… we’ll see what he comes up with.

It was rush hour on the subway and the train was packed. I slipped into a space and grabbed hold of the nearest pole making sure I didn’t kick the feet of the people in front of me, who were lucky enough to have snagged a seat.

After a few stops, a woman sitting in front of me waved her hand to get my attention. I took one earphone out of my ear so I could hear what she was saying.

“Would you like to sit down?” she asked, looking concerned.

“Oh– I’m fine… thanks though”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” I said, wondering why she was so worried.

“Okay,” she said slowly.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the train windows… one hand holding onto the pole, the other resting on my stomach. I looked back at the woman who offered me her seat, catching her as she glanced down at my tummy before going back to her book.

She thought I was pregnant….

*sigh*

The other day I was waiting for the bus, when I ran into a mutual (skinny) friend of mine.

“Look at you, you look so cute!” she said, taking in my outfit.

It was a nice day, so I was wearing a 50′s style black dress, with large lapels and a full skirt, a black cardigan and black peep-toe heels (showing off my bubble-gum pink pedicure).

“But then again, you always look nice,” she continued. “Where do you get your clothes?”

I rattled off a few stores where I shop that have both plus and regular sizes, she suggested a store in SoHo where she loves to get jeans (like I’d ever find anything there!) and we caught up a bit.

The conversation was harmless, but it got me thinking about how much effort I have to put out to “always look nice”. I’ve mentioned before that my (skinny) friends can throw on a T-shirt and Jeans, throw their hair in a pony tail and still look fabulous. But as a PSP, I know that if I pulled together that same outfit, I’d just look… frumpy. Instead, I have to plan out even my most casual looks. I haven’t worn a T-shirt since the 8th grade and shopping for a pair of gym pants can be an all weekend affair because at my current size, I am not the chick who can work out in a pair of over sized sweats, rolled down at the waist and a tank top. At the same time, I am committed to finding clothes that show off my assets while hiding my flaws.

I guess its the old adage of working twice as hard to get half as far.

For me its a daily accomplishment to leave the house looking nice, if not fabulous. Thankfully I have a passion for clothes and I embrace the challenge, but sometimes I see a PSP who isn’t living up to her fashion potential and I just want to give her the list of reasonably priced stores where I shop. Of course, lately I feel like that list is getting smaller and smaller as stores like Old Navy and Century 21 rob me of my PSP shopping experience. (Century 21 seems to be fazing out their plus section and Old Navy has banished their plus sizes to the Internet only).

On the other hand, there are plenty of PSP’s in the City who are rocking out with fabulous looks on the daily… I see you and it makes me proud! For all the trips taken out of your way, just to find the perfect black top that doesn’t hug your stomach too tightly… for all the times you’ve held your breath hoping that a pair of jeans you ordered online would fit properly… for all the shipping fees you’ve been forced to pay to stores that only cater to you online…

I commend you!

It was 8:30 on a Friday night and I was making the work week a distant memory with cocktails at a friends birthday party. We were at a spot in the west village, dancing and talking when I felt my phone vibrate in my bag.

Sorry about earlier, I had a deadline and couldn’t make my way over

It was from Robert.

It was also totally irrelevant (not in a bad way, but in a “why are you texting me about this, now?” way). My department had some left over cupcakes from a birthday celebration and I had sent him a text message earlier in the afternoon letting him know that there were extras in case he wanted to grab one. He never came to get his cupcake and I had forgotten about it until he sent this text (five hours later) apologizing.

Coincidentally, the venue where we were having drinks was a place he mentioned to me some weeks earlier. We texted a bit about where I was and where he was, what I was doing and what he was doing and before I knew it, he was on his way to the west village to meet me (an hour+ trip from where he lived).

I tossed my phone back into my bag and watched my friends dance as I slowly sipped my drink. This would be our third time hanging out outside of the office. The weekend before, he took his little sister bowling near my apartment and I stopped by and said hello for a few minutes. It was nothing spectacular, we actually didn’t talk much, but now he was on his way to meet me. What did this mean?

He showed up with his cousin and we chatted a bit. He bought me a couple of drinks and then we made our way to the dance floor. Of course, it would be my luck that even though we were at a mainstream club, guys were approaching me asking me to dance, giving me their cards, etc. I played it cool, giving Robert most of my attention, but I didn’t want to assume anything. Was he there with me or there for me?

All in all I had fun, it seemed casual… definitely could have been a friend thing– but then again it could have been something else.

I still can’t tell.

Hello Lovelies! I was very humbled this week when I received an email from a reader asking me for advice. Since the things in this letter are definitely something I can relate to– I thought maybe it might be helpful for other readers as well:

Hi Celeste/CeCe.. not sure what I should call you, lol…

I know you aren’t a therapist.. but I have no one else that really understands!

-L.H. (Long Island, NY)

Hey Miss,

If I had a dollar for every time I stood against the wall feeling low while my (skinny) friends had the time of their lives, I just might be able to afford the Chanel bag I’ve been eyeing!

Being the bigger girl among model types is never easy, but the thing that stuck out to me from your letter was when you said your friend was being “passed around”. Isn’t it interesting that feeling like the “odd girl out” will make us want things that are actually ridiculous? I mean – beer bottles should be passed around… not women!

While out on The Scene, I’ve observed something interesting. There is always the skinny girl who shows up to the BBW club to support her plus size friend. These girls strut onto the dance floor with a certain confidence and as they watch the men ignore them and go for the chubby chicks, you can literally watch their “confidence” fade.

There will always be men who aren’t attracted to you no matter what your size. And if your level of self worth is contingent on how often you are passed around by a group of attractive jerks, you will never understand how valuable you truly are.

When we make the decision to change our bodies, I feel like we often forget that there’s some inside work that has to take place as well. Working on having pride in who we are and not what we look like is probably the hardest lesson ever, but I feel like one of the gifts of a weight struggle is the opportunity to find a level of self love so deep that a million Abercrombie models couldn’t take it away.

xoxo,
CeCe

P.S. If any of you have other questions or things you’d like to run by me, we could make “Curvy Conversations” a regular thing on TBGB. Email me your questions: nycece@gmail.com

Service was wonderful, as usual, and afterward Robert offered to walk my sister and me home. We were chatting casually when I heard my name being called from across the street. I looked over and it was Jeremy, he was exiting a cafe with a some friends. He waved them on and made his way across the street. I know he lives in the neighborhood, but of all the people for us to run into, why Jeremy?

“Hey Denise, I didn’t know you were in town this weekend,” he asked, giving my sister a hug. Then he turned to me. “Hey.”

My heart skipped a beat, “Hey, Jeremy– this is Robert.”

“Hey man,” Jeremy said shaking Roberts hand. We kept walking and Jeremy fell into step with us. I could not believe this was happening. “So do you two know each other from work or something?” Jeremy asked, rudely.

“Yup,” I could have killed him. His apartment wasn’t even in the direction we were going… this was crazy. I was trying to think of something to say when Jeremy chimed in with:

“Denise, did your sister tell you we had a hot date last week and she stood me up? We were supposed to have dinner.”

I could not believe it, Jeremy had asked to meet me for dinner and when I said I would be an hour late because of work, he claimed he was too tired and hungry to wait for me. But here he was making it sound like… like… it was something else completely. My face was hot, I didn’t want to over react in front of Robert, so I just said nothing.

“CeCe left me, sitting at the restaurant with a bowl of chips and guacamole– it was horrible…”

“Oh my gosh, Jeremy– You are so fired! That’s not what happened and you know it.” I said with a forced smile and left it at that. Fighting with Jeremy in front of Robert was not a good look.

“I’m fired, huh?” Jeremy said jokingly.

Then Robert chimed in, “Well if you’re firing people, that must mean your company has openings now, right?”

“Whoa! Listen dude,” Jeremy interrupted “Let me tell you about working for Celeste. You put in a lot of effort and you get a minimal return.”

It was said as a joke, so we all laughed. But the weight of that statement was so heavy I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide until the moment was over. Finally we reached a major intersection where it was appropriate to part ways. Jeremy took off with a hand shake for Robert, a hug for Denise and an (unwelcome) kiss on the cheek for me. Robert thanked me for letting him come to church with me and quickly ran down into the subway station.

I stood on the street looking at Denise. Before I could speak she read my mind when she said:

“That… was a lot.”

This weekend my stylist, JoJo, invited me to The Fat Girl Flea Market. As a PSP, finding vintage/used clothing in my size is like finding a needle in a hay stack. So for me, The Fat Girl Flea Market was a “must-attend”. Being the good PSP that I am, I invited my friend Dana to tag along. The plan was to meet up around 12pm, do a little shopping and then have brunch.

We walked into the room where the flea market was being held and it was bananas! There were piles of clothes on tables sorted by size ranging from 1x to 6x. Wedged between them were racks of dresses and coats, and wedged between them were PSP’s stripping down and trying on used clothing to their hearts content. For those of us who were more modest, an open dressing room was created with a partition in the middle of the room.

JoJo, Dana and I went our separate ways, at first I was a bit overwhelmed, but then I began to dig and found a few things that I liked. I was looking at a shimmery top when JoJo dragged a girl over to me. “This is her!” JoJo said, pointing to me. I looked at her blankly.

“CeCe, this is Josie…reads your blog… she’s a fan!”

I felt my face getting hot, JoJo and Dana know about my blog, but for some reason I feel like I can be more honest and open when I write anonymously. JoJo knows this, but I think she got caught up in the moment when she met Josie, and understandably so. Josie was super cute, with blunt bangs that hit just above her eyebrows, she had bright piercing eyes, high cheek bones and a warm smile.

“Hi…” I said slowly. I was still processing everything.

“I’m Josie – - I read your blog all the time!”

I looked at JoJo, who was beaming. Josie was grinning too, so I decided to embrace the moment.

“That’s so random…” I laughed nervously.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I’m just so geeked-out right now!” Her smile then changed to a frown. “Where have you been?? You didn’t write at all last month!”

We laughed, I apologized and made some small talk. Josie was new to the city and so genuinely sweet, I couldn’t just leave her with a greeting and a goodbye, so I invited Josie to brunch with us.

I took my clothes (and my stylist) into the dressing room and began trying on the pieces I had pulled. Just as we were leaving, A girl who was without a doubt the smallest woman at the flea market was there trying on an adorable dress that we’d all been coveting but were unable to fit. She was a 14, the size where you can flip flop between mainstream and plus size clothing. I overheard another PSP compliment her on how she looked in the dress (and her ability to fit into it).

“Thanks,” she replied. “You know, I actually believe you! I have a thing about skinny women who compliment you in dressing rooms, because those bitches will lie and tell you how great you look in something and then get the same dress so they can out-do you! But if a woman is plus-size, she will tell you the truth!”

JoJo and I exchanged glances and walked out shaking our heads.

I left with 3 dresses, 1 skirt and a pair of yoga pants all for $22.00! We decided to walk up a few blocks to a restaurant in Chelsea that served unlimited mimosas on Saturdays.

Although I had spent time out and about with JoJo and Dana separately, as a rule, I was used to being the only PSP in the room when hanging out with my (skinny) friends. As we sat down at our table, I realized that (outside of The Scene) I had never hung out with this many PSP’s at one time before. I started thinking about how sitting at the table with Dana, JoJo and Josie called more attention to my size, this made me feel guilty until JoJo interrupted my thoughts when she said.

“Did you notice everyone looking at us when we walked in the restaurant?”

Okay! I wasn’t crazy… a flock of fat girls does draw a certain amount of attention. We laughed it off and toasted. Brunch was fun, Dana and JoJo hadn’t spent time together before, so it was interesting watching them get to know each other and we were all able to give little Josie advice and forewarning about starting to go out to the BBW clubs, which she plans to do later this month (maybe with a few chaperone’s).

As we paid our bill, two obviously gay men in matching bubble gum pink polo shirts walked by our table.

“This is the place to be!” one of them said, as he made his way over to our table. He shimmied up to Josie and looked down her shirt. “You need to put those away… even a gay man might get tempted!” and with that he reached over and grabbed her boob.

What a way to end the day….